Doc Juan
by Cherazor
Summary: The Doctor wants to start a romantic relationship with Rose. The problem? Rose doesn't seem to be receiving his signals. The solution? Mimic the human male behavior in similar situation as given in a girls' magazine. What could possibly go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

_Don't ask me how I got the idea for this story, because I'm not quite sure myself. But after I got it, I just had to write it. It was just too tempting not too! XD_

_I have to thank Moiranna yet again for leaping into the role as beta as quickly as she did. And, on top of that lived with me pestering her like a little kid!_

_Dedication: To Sofia for telling me to "write something already so I can read it" - be careful what you wish for! XD_

* * *

**Doc Juan**

* * *

"_Eek!_"

"You just squealed like a little girl!"

"I did not! See these manly, hairy hands? They belong to someone who's far too masculine to squeal. Especially at the mere touch of someone's, admittedly, ice cold feet. What-what are you doing? Stop that! No, really! Rose Tyler, keep those feet away from me! I'm trying to read!"

"I just want to warm them up a bit! I feel a bit nippy."

"And so you decided to get them warmer by rubbing them against my legs? Not exactly your best idea, is it? My body temperature is lower than yours – superior physiology."

"All that superiority and you still squealed like a little girl when my foot touched you!"

"I didn't squeal! Besides, it was bloody cold!"

"Since my body temperature's higher than yours, shouldn't my feet feel nice and toasty to you?"

"They should, yeah. But you, you impossible little thing, have managed own the coldest pair of feet I have ever met. _Eeeek!_ Stop that!"

"Look, there you are. All squealing again!"

"I did not squeal!"

"Yeah you did. 'Oh, I am the Doctor; the Oncoming Storm – the one thing the Daleks fear! But I scream like a little girl at the thought of cold feet anywhere near me.'"

"Very funny. See if I ever help you with your cold feet ever again!"

"Heartless, you are."

"I'm not heartless! I'm just saying – you could have worn socks when you came to join me on the couch. Or slippers! Or a pair of those feet jammies. Love those things! -_Eek!_ Rose! Keep that up, I'll be suffering from hypothermia in a few minutes. All thanks to you!"

"Hypothermia? Really?"

"Yep! And it'll be your responsibility to save me!"

"I'll just shove you inside the sauna, then."

"'Shove me inside the-' Rose Tyler! I'm surprised at you! You can't just shove someone suffering from hypothermia inside a sauna! Their internal organs might not be able to handle the stress of the sudden increase in temperature. Mind you, I still have that superior physiology I mentioned before – no danger in it for me. But never mind that – dangerous to humans, that would be! Blimey, who did you have as a first aid teacher?"

"Yeah? Say you suddenly got hypothermia, never mind that physiology you have. How'd I save you then?"

"You have to raise my body temperature slowly. Optimally, we'd huddle naked together underneath a blanket."

"You're joking."

"Oh, trust me. I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life."

"Doctor!"

"What? Oww! What was that for? Did you have to hit me so hard with that magazine?"

"I barely touched you!"

"I'm going to get a lump! First your icy feet of death and now you hit me with magazines. I should have you reported."

"For bopping you with a few sheets of paper?"

"Mmhm. But! I might forgive you if you give me that kiss you owe me."

"A kiss? Why would I owe you a kiss?"

"For the lump – 'kiss and make better'? Isn't that how you humans do it?"

"Yeah. If you're about five years old."

"With this level of abuse I think I've deserved a kiss."

"You're such a kid!"

"Oww! That's two kisses now, Rose! Two! I'll be counting them!"

"Fine. Two kisses, then. I'll tell mum the next time I call her."

"Wha-Jackie?! Why would you tell Jackie?"

"You're being a baby and she likes mothering people. A perfect match, that is."

"I'm going to have nightmares tonight."

"Yeah? My job here is done. I'm going to bed – I'm knackered. 'Night, Doctor."

"Good night." The Doctor sighed, following Rose with his gaze as she left the library they'd been sitting in, disappointment pooling in his stomach.

He'd been trying to tell Rose for months that he was interested, that he wanted her to take the next step and ask him out. He'd been harboring his hopes for so long – even when he was been all ears and leather and Captain Jack Harkness had come on board, he had thought that it was only a matter of time before she took the plunge forward and showed her interest. With all the talk about dancing and with her preference for him over Jack and his flirtations clear for all to see, it couldn't be long before they would be a pair. They were teetering the edge, he knew it. A tiny nudge…

Or so he had thought.

Then Satellite five had happened and, with his regeneration, his hopes had been put on hold. Even with his new pretty boy form – a form he had tried to shape into something she'd find as pleasing as possible, he had to admit – she had been wary of him. She would need time to get used to him again, a feeling he could very well understand, and he had tried to give her the space she required while making himself familiar to her again. From that point on their relationship had progressed until, after the whole ordeal with the werewolf, they'd regained the same comfortable footing they'd had before his change of face. She trusted him again and seemed to enjoy his new features just as much, if not more, as she'd done his old. Hope growing inside of him again, he'd started to send out hints and signals that he was open for a relationship with her. But while she seemed to enjoy and accept his attentions, nothing ever seemed to come out of it. She was interested – he knew she was, but as days had turned into weeks and weeks into months, and his attempts remained unfruitful, he was starting to grow disheartened.

And as frustration began to take root and replace the hope he'd been entertaining for so long, his attempts began to grow bolder and more desperate to the point where he knew his behavior would have been seen as indecent on Gallifrey. He was a male – he was supposed to be subordinate and wait for the female to make the moves in the relationship. But Rose just wasn't taking the bait and he was starting to grow too impatient. He'd even tried to play hard to get – flirting and dancing with Madame de Pompadour, and what a fine mess that had turned into! – but not even that had seemed to work.

The Doctor groaned, burying his head in hands.

Maybe he just wasn't sending out the right signals? He wasn't an expert on human courting rituals – it wasn't a subject he thought he'd ever had the use for in the past, so he'd never bothered with it – but he'd assumed they were similar enough for his desires to be understood, but perhaps they weren't. Maybe he was meant to be doing things differently?

He frowned, hands thumbing through the magazine Rose had left. In some corner of his mind, he recognized it as one of the teen magazines she always kept insisting on picking up during their visits to Jackie's. Style tips, celebrity gossip and ads for make-up passed unseen before his eyes as he thought back on Jack and his manners – if there ever was a man who had no problem sending out the right signals, it would be him. All that seemed required of him was a _'Hi – Captain Jack Harkness,'_ and he was good to go. Even Rose had responded to it in the beginning! But he had already introduced himself to Rose, so that method wouldn't work…whatever it had been. And he could only wonder what on Earth Mickey had done for him to catch Rose's attention. He might not be the idiot he'd taken him to be in the beginning, but _still_…

The old Brigadier was married, maybe he could-

He drummed his fingers against his lips. _No._ The Brigadier may be many things, but he wasn't a man you went and asked for romantic advice from.

With a shake of his head, the Doctor focused his attention on the magazine still lying in his hands, his eyes coming to a rest on the glossy photo of a kissing couple, complete with the happy caption '_Love is in the air!_'.

"Oh, I wish!" he grumbled, wasting no time in flipping the page. He paused a few pages later as the title of an article caught his attention. Eyes skimming through the short article, he allowed a full blown grin to blossom on his face at its content.

_**Is he waiting for you to show some interest?**__ – Five telltale signs that he wants to be more than 'just friends'!_

_Admit it – we've all been there. In fact, you might even be there now; sitting around, spending hours wondering whether or not __**that guy**__ is interested in you. But as frustrating as a man may seem to us women, understanding them is actually far easier when you know what signals to look out for. Here are the five most common signs that he's into you!_

It was _perfect. _Exactly what he needed! All he had to do was to emulate the five signs given and Rose would _know._ After all, with the magazine's superior knowledge about twenty-first century human courting rituals combined with his incredible intellect, he was bound to succeed. It was foolproof! He'd be at least as good as that Don Juan-bloke humans liked to mention from time to time.

_Doc Juan_. Yeah, he rather liked the sound of that!

Things were finally looking up.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, here we are, then - chapter two of the story and the first of the Doctor's attempts to be more like a human male... Yeah, I'm just going to leave it at that. XD I just hope you'll find the chapter as much fun as I did when I wrote it.  
_

_Another big thanks goes to Moiranna for being my beta. You do a lovely work, my dear!  
_

_Have fun, people!_

* * *

Chapter two

* * *

_-He appreciates you. He might be too shy to tell you exactly what you mean to him, but there are many ways to give appreciation that doesn't require him to open his mouth and say the words. Does he insist on giving you small knick-knacks? Maybe he always pays for the coffee? When it comes to guys, it's these little things that count and they all show that he appreciates you for being you._

"Appreciate her" – well, that was one thing he had done right, then. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was how very good he was at telling her how much he valued her and everything that she did for him – he called her brilliant more often than anything else, and then there were all those celebratory hugs they shared whenever they could. He'd even declared her to be "the best" just a few trips into their adventures together. If she didn't know how much he valued her…

The Doctor scratched his neck, a thoughtful frown on his lips. Then again, according to the article gifts were supposed to be a big part of the whole "appreciate her"-thing, and there was the possibility – a tiny-tiny, _miniscule_ one, but a possibility all the same – that he might be a bit lacking in that department. While he _did_ pay for most of the things they bought in the various places they visited, that had more to do with the fact that Rose had no way of obtaining the local currency on her own than anything else. All the same, it should still count for something, right? He paid! Although, his payments were more often than not accomplished by him waving his psychic paper around or by sonicing a cash point for some ready money… Did it still count if he paid with money that wasn't his own?

Maybe that was it then – he needed to give her a gift. A good, proper gift. Something nice that showed her how much she meant to him but was practical too. Not something rubbish like flowers. Flowers were beautiful but so transient – they withered and died before they were thrown out, not leaving anything behind but bittersweet memories of days passed-

The Doctor swallowed, pulling the thought to a dead halt before it could continue anywhere else.

_No_. No rubbish, impractical flowers for Rose. It was as simple as that. It was much better if he gave her something she could use. Like hangers!

A sense of giddiness began to spread itself through his body and he beamed at the idea. He could give her hangers! You never could get too many hangers, could you? This would show that he liked her and wouldn't mind if she bought even more clothes, no matter how many unnecessary garments she already had. It was a perfect gift to give! They were nice, they were practical…

But were they romantic?

He paused, the bright smile on his face dimming. Maybe they weren't. He couldn't remember a single woman receiving hangers from their potential boyfriends in any of those romantic movies Rose insisted on watching. Strange, that.

So maybe not hangers, then. It was better to play it safe and choose something he was certain was nice and romantic, like the gifts he had seen in those movies. Something like…perfumes. Human women liked perfumes, didn't they? He never could understand why they kept on insisting on covering their scents with artificial chemicals – Rose smelled just fine without them, he thought – but the idea did have some merit if he could find something with a more subtle fragrance. Something nice, soft scented and also somehow practical.

Yes! That was the ticket! Aaaaaand he was never even going to _think_ that sentence again.

With his lips stretched into a new wide smile, he skipped – a very manly skip it was, too – into his room, intent on getting his week's dose of sleep before he began his search after the perfect gift.

Rose was going to be so happy!

* * *

Eight hours later, Rose woke to the feeling of her mattress jumping up and down as if she was in the middle of an earthquake. Cracking her eyes open, she was greeted to the sight of the Doctor's beaming face filling up her whole field of vision. He was lying so close to her she could feel his hair brushing against her forehead as he moved. "Doctor!" she whimpered, burying herself in her pillow.

"Rose, Rose, Rose, Roooooose," he whooped, every repetition of her name punctuated with a bounce. "You've been sleeping for eight and a half hours already. Normal humans need around seven every night to function properly. You've gotten your fill!"

Suspecting she wouldn't be getting any more sleep any time soon, she untangled herself from her blanket and pushed herself into sitting position. She patted the empty space beside her and the Doctor plunked down, his grin even wider. "Doctor," she tutted, wagging her index finger at his face. "We've been through this before. No interrupting the companion's beauty sleep."

"I didn't interrupt it exactly – you were going to wake up own your own soon anyway. Besides, I made you breakfast!"

A tray appeared on her lap so fast she would have thought it had been conjured there by magic if she hadn't known any better. It was filled with all her breakfast favorites – tea, toast, some jam and a plate with the cereal from Talalalog that she loved but could have sworn she'd eaten the last of the day before – and she gaped at in surprise before allowing her gaze to move upwards to meet his eager looking countenance. It wasn't so much the fact that he'd made her breakfast that astonished her – he often had breakfast started by the time she crawled out of bed, after all – but the fact that he'd made her breakfast in bed, did. He'd never done it in the past; not during her birthday, Christmas or on the anniversary of their meeting. And as far as she knew, there was nothing special to celebrate on this particular morning.

"What's all this, then? No, don't tell me – you need to borrow some money, don't you?" she asked. Her cheeky grin faltered as she took note of how the excited look on the Doctor's face fell, and she rushed to amend herself. "'S just…breakfast in bed? Got to be something big. When mum does it she either wants to borrow my money or my clothes!"

Another grin flashed into being. "You got me – I want to borrow your clothes."

"Yeah? Better not be one of my skirts, then. You'd never carry it off!"

He bumped his shoulder against hers. "Rose Tyler! I'll have you know my legs would look fantastic in a skirt!" They laughed, Rose's body shaking so much in her mirth she almost knocked the breakfast tray from her lap. The Doctor dove forward, just managing to save the tray before the tea spilled out of her favorite mug. "Easy there! Wouldn't want the breakfast to go to waste now that I actually took the trouble to give it you in bed," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

She hummed her assent, nibbling on a piece of toast. "So what about it, then? What's so special about today?" Seeing beginning of a sad pout growing on his face, she hastened to continue. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, 'cause I do. It's just…you've never done this before."

"I just wanted to do something nice," he mumbled, his voice sulky. A moment later, new thought seemed to have struck him and his eyes widened in fear. "Is that so hard to believe? Am I that bad of a- that bad of a friend that you can't even believe that?"

"No!" she cried, her hand shooting forward to grip his. "'Course not. That's not it at all! I'm just a bit surprised and I thought it must be some special reason for all of this. Like I said, you've never done it before. Not on my birthday or anything."

A faint blush spread itself over his cheeks, and his hand came up to scratch his ear. "Actually, I did do it for a reason. I just wanted to…" he paused, clearing his throat. "I have a gift for you," he said at length and she couldn't help but wonder if that was _really_ what he'd been intending to say all along.

"A gift?" she repeated, shooting the half eaten toast in her hands a quick look. "But it's still not my birthday. Is it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course it isn't. Nah, this is for something else entirely. Look I just wanted to- Well! I saw it and thought you might like it. As…as…well, actions speak louder than words, don't they?" He thrust a small package at her, and she couldn't help but notice how the faint blush on his cheeks had grown stronger.

Finishing off the last of her toast in one large bite, she rubbed off the last sticky crumbles from her fingers on the napkin the Doctor had been thoughtful enough to include on the tray, before turning her attention to her gift. Making short work of the wrapping paper, she opened the box and peered inside.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in confusion.

Because inside the small gift box, was a large, flower scented deodorant.


	3. Chapter 3

_Right. Chapter three it is! Now, before we begin I have to inform you that yes - the bit about Newcastle is true, but they don't use ammonia from that particular source anymore. ;)_

_Also, I have been asked to warn you guys that this story may not be safe for work due to, well, people laughing out loud. Very sorry about that!  
_

_And finally, another big thanks to Moiranna for her betaing work!_

* * *

Chapter three

* * *

The Doctor felt as if he was walking on air.

Rose had liked his gift so much she'd gone _speechless_. And the look in her eyes! He could only thank his lucky stars for his brilliant idea of giving her the deodorant. A strike of inspired genius, that was! A deodorant was like a perfume, only _better_. The fragrance was softer, more subtle, and it would help prevent the sweatiness Rose sometimes complained about after their adventures. Romantic, thoughtful and practical! What more could you ask for in a gift?

Everything was going so well he almost felt giddy with happiness. He better not relax, though – he had only completed the first sign and he couldn't assume success until Rose took the step he'd been waiting for so long and asked to further their relationship.

So, the next sign it was.

Peering around himself to make sure Rose wasn't lurking behind a corner somewhere to catch him in the act, he tugged out the magazine from where he'd hidden it inside one of his pockets – he could only hope she wouldn't miss it until he was done with it – and flipped it open, skimming the pages for the article he wanted. The right page was before him seconds later and, with another fugitive look over his shoulder, he began to read.

_-He takes an increased interest in everything you say. No matter who the guy is, he'll never be into all the same things you are. That's just the way things are. After all, you're not interested in all the same things he is, either! So when a guy makes an attempt to show interest some of the things he normally wouldn't be, then you can be sure his interest lies in __**you**__ rather than in anything else._

'Show interest'. Another thing he was doing right. That was good! So far it seemed as if he couldn't have been too far off the mark with the signals he'd been sending out. After all, he was always interested in hearing anything and everything about her and whatever she had to say. He was even an attentive listener when she talked about Jackie and Mickey-the-not-quite-but-still-almost-idiot. The only time he tended to space off was whenever she started talking about clothes and makeup and that was hardly-

Ooooh, oh. _Oh_.

That was it – his one subject to improve on! While he without doubt enjoyed seeing Rose in her various outfits, there was a good reason why he tended to choose one signature look for each generation and then stick to it – fashion had just never been in his area of interest. But if he had to show some more awareness about human clothing trends, then he would. He'd suffer through all the magazines, fashion shows and other things he would need to endure in order to learn more about it. It would be a small price to pay. There were worse obstacles in the universe to overcome than that, and Rose was worth them all.

With a resolved nod, he allowed the magazine's pages to flick before him from cover to cover, his eyes taking in every piece of relevant information he could find. There wasn't much. Other than a few passing mentions about the colors of the season – and what use was there for those when you were in a time machine, anyway? – the daily fashion choices of some celebrity or other, and the occasional tip on how to dress, the amount of information contained wasn't much to cheer about.

Tucking the magazine back into his pocket, he made his way into the library in search of more in-depth reading.

* * *

Rose couldn't quite get the deodorant out of head even as she put the finishing touches on her make-up. She was trying very hard not to feel offended by it – after all, the Doctor wasn't always clear on human decorum and he _could_ have been giving it to her on some misguided notion that it was nice to receive one. Although how on Earth he could have convinced himself that being given a deodorant could mean anything other than 'you smell' was beyond her. Nevertheless, it was a possibility, and she preferred it to the alternative.

She'd still taken the time to put on some of it, though.

_Just in case._

To counter the tiny inkling of insecurity and doubt she could feel niggling at the back of her mind, she'd decided to bring out her _nice_ shirt for the day – the pretty red one she'd spent weeks to save up for in order to afford back when she'd been working at Henrick's. It was the most expensive piece of clothing she owned, and it had been worth every penny. It always sat _just right_, accentuated her best sides without making her look cheap and it was, for that reason, a favorite of hers to wear whenever she wanted to feel better about herself.

She straightened, giving her reflection a last once-over in the mirror. She was looking good – attractive, a bit flirty, but still approachable. Now, if only the Doctor would see that. So she may not be Madame de Pompadour, but she was nothing to sneeze at either!

With a small smile, she gave herself a satisfied nod and replaced her tube of mascara just as the Doctor poked his head into her room again.

"There you are! I was wondering what was keeping you." He paused, tilting his head to the right as he took a large sniff of air and a large, joyful beam lit his face. "You're wearing the deodorant!" he exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah. I guess I am," she replied, trying her best to ignore the uneasiness that was, once again, clutching at her stomach.

"Brilliant. It smells good on you. And it'll help with that sweatiness!"

She flinched, fighting to keep up the cheerful expression on her face. "Mm," she mumbled, struggling to come up with an appropriate response. What on earth was she supposed to say to that? Should she apologize for smelling? Thank him for the deodorant? Smack him for being a rude jerk?

Before she could make up her mind, however, she caught sight of the intense look he was giving her. He was gazing up and down her body, almost as if he was seeing _her_ for the first time and she just about managed to keep herself from blushing under his scrutiny. He had already caused her breath to speed up and butterflies to dance around in her stomach as it were.

"You look good," he said at last and heat burst into her cheeks at his words. She'd just forced her brain into overdrive in order to form a suitable reply – something grateful but also witty, cheeky and a bit flirty at the same time – when he continued on. "Although are you sure about that shirt?"

The happy smile that had been gracing her lips fell. "What d'you mean?" she asked, shooting her reflection another glance, this time with barely hidden apprehension. There was nothing wrong with her shirt and it still fit her as well as it always had. Right? "Something wrong with it?"

"Nah, it's more…it's red, isn't it? Wrong color for the season – it's spring! Or, well, it will be spring when we land, anyway. Wearing anything other than a nice pastel would be sin, Rose. A sin!" He waved his hand at her.

She blinked. For a short moment she'd almost expected him to end his little tirade with the words _'darling'_, _'fabulous'_ or perhaps even _'to die for'_ and she choked back a snort. "What? Since when do you even care about any of that?"

He pouted. "I care! Of course I care!"

"Doctor, the last time I asked about your opinion about what dress to wear, you fell asleep."

"I didn't fall asleep! I just closed my eyes to focus better! It was a hard decision."

She grinned. "Yeah? And I guess the loud snores I heard were the sound of your brain processing the intricate dilemma of whether I should wear the green and the blue, then?"

"Well," he said, drawing out the word for a few seconds as he scratched his ear. "It was an important question. I had to give you a properly thought out reply!"

"You told me to wear whatever I wanted 'cause it wouldn't matter!"

"I had to consider all the factors before reaching that conclusion, didn't I?"

A loud laugh escaped her lips before she had the chance to swallow it back down. "Doctor, we ended up arrested 'cause green was considered salacious."

He gave her a wide-eyed stare, looking more like an injured puppy than anything else. "No need to be like that, all snippy and sarcastic. I've been in every single fashion era in the universe – it's no wonder I get them a bit confused sometimes. I was there when Ogg the Clever decided that Mammoth fur made for nice coats; when the Romans decided that wrapping sheets around their bodies were a good idea and when Newcastle founded their riches on urine."

"Wait, hold on," Rose said, a frown creasing her brow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The Doctor stared at her in confusion. "What?"

"Newcastle and their…pee. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh! That. Well, their urine contains a lot of ammonia – used in fixing dye. It used to be Newcastle's third biggest export after coal and beer."

"You're joshing!" she spluttered, her mind going over the amount of clothes she had stored in her closet and the various funky colors they were in. She didn't even want to think about the quantity of urine that had been used on them…

"It's as good source of ammonia as any," the Doctor replied, looking delighted at her interest. "Of course, in your time-"

"I think I need a cuppa!" she blurted, breaking him off before he could continue his little lesson – she was feeling a bit queasy as it were and she wasn't certain she'd be able to handle any more _interesting_ tidbits of information the Doctor might think she needed to know. "I guess we'll have to continue this some other time."

Some time way, _way_ into the future, after she'd thrown all her clothes into the washer and the memory of Newcastle's historical exports had faded, perhaps.

Lord, she didn't care if her clothes were falling to pieces – she was never, _ever _going to go shopping ever again. _Yuck!_


End file.
